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“Hold still.”
“Sorry.”
Something that sounded a lot like a giggle fell from her luscious lips.
I loved that she let me do this to her despite the bastard I’d been to her so far. I didn’t find it docile. It showed that she had courage and the guts to face me in bed, after all.
I also loved that she was so innocent. Neither waxed nor groomed for sex.
I slid my hands to the back of her thighs and grabbed her ass cheeks, elevating her up as I started licking a shallow trace along her slit. It was red and engorged from yesterday, and I hated myself with a passion I usually reserved for her father.
“You’re delicious,” I said hoarsely.
“Oh,” she squeaked above me, panting, “this is…wow. Yeah.”
I slid my tongue between her folds. I hadn’t gone down on a woman in over a decade, but if someone was worth tasting, it was my future wife.
Her body coiled a little at first, then loosened as she spread her thighs wider and let me push my tongue all the way in, fighting against the tightness of her pussy.
She was tense—not surprising, considering everything she went through yesterday—and still extremely small. The idea of thrusting my fat cock into her again, and soon, made my erection strain against her bloodied linen.
I felt it throbbing, my pulse smashing against my balls.
After a few minutes of licking her, I flicked my tongue in and out of her. She moaned, her body rocking with pleasure as she became looser and less self-conscious.
She peeked at me, cracking open one eye. Her hip met my face time after time as she chased my tongue, her nipples so hard, I couldn’t help but play with them simultaneously.
I put pressure on her clit, sucking and swirling my tongue around it for long minutes, prolonging her orgasm every time she was close by abandoning her clit and licking at a stain of blood on her inner thigh.
After twenty minutes, I decided she could have her climax. I closed my lips on her little nub and sucked it so hard, she screamed.
Francesca quaked around my face as her first orgasm shot through her, and her hands left the headboard, finding my hair and yanking at it brutally.
I felt the burn in my scalp but didn’t relent. Instead, I reached for my bourbon and fished out an ice cube, sucking the alcohol out of it before sliding it between the sore lips of her pussy as I drew her clit with less ferocity now, sending her into another climax that crashed into her and made her moan so loud the windows nearly rattled.
There were two more orgasms after that.
“Can you teach me how to touch a man?” she asked when we were done, and she was propped against the headboard, me beside her, still naked and hard.
“No,” I deadpanned. “I can teach you how to touch me. Touching other men in this lifetime is not looking good for you, Nem.”
It was stupid to think about that kid, Angelo, at that moment. The need to make him go away hit me somewhere dark and primal.
I spared her the part where he set her up and made me believe that he actually fucked her. She’d had enough of a shitty night yesterday, thanks to yours truly.
She wrapped the sheets around her body, tapping her chin, as if contemplating whether she should say the next thing.
“What you saw in the garden…” She hesitated.
I wanted to tell her not to bother, but the truth was, I was interested to know what happened. Where they’d both disappeared to.
“My father pushed me to talk to Angelo. After Bishop approached you, Angelo offered to take the conversation somewhere we didn’t have to shout over other people’s voices. I told him I didn’t hate it here. Which I guess was true until last night. He got upset and walked off. I went upstairs to my room, and on my way up, my cousin told me he slipped into a guestroom with the blonde reporter who was trying to coax Bishop into an interview.”
Kristen.
The little witch set me up, and Angelo played along.
I wondered if they knew how far I’d go. They were going to pay for that little stunt. Too bad the two assholes were taken with Francesca and myself.
